Chapter 13 – The Jealous Wives
After the death of Maikudi, sadness covered the house like a dark cloud. Every corner of the home reminded them of him—his seat in the sitting room, his cup, his shoes by the door, the sound of his voice that no longer echoed in the mornings. The children would sometimes run to his room by mistake, forgetting for a moment that their father was no longer there, only to stop suddenly and cry.
But even though Maikudi was gone, the story of the family did not end.
In fact, a new chapter of their lives had just begun.
In the first weeks after his burial, Ameera was completely broken. She barely spoke. She barely ate. She would sit quietly, staring into space, remembering his smile, his laughter, his advice. Sometimes she would hold his clothes and cry silently so the children would not hear her.
At that time, it was Sakina and Maryam who became her strength.
They stayed by her side day and night.
“Sister, you must eat,” Sakina would say gently, bringing food to her.
“You still have children who need you,” Maryam would add softly.
When Ameera could not wake up early, Sakina would prepare breakfast for the children. When Ameera was too tired to speak, Maryam would handle visitors and condolences. They shared the pain with her, and slowly, very slowly, Ameera began to regain her strength.
People expected that after Maikudi’s death, problems would begin again.
Some whispered, “Now that the man is gone, they will fight.”
Others said, “Three wives in one house without a husband? It will not last.”
But they were wrong.
Something had changed in that house.
Ameera, without realizing it at first, became the head of the family. Not because she demanded it, but because everyone naturally turned to her. The children listened to her. Sakina and Maryam respected her decisions. Even relatives began to consult her on family matters.
One evening, Sakina said to Maryam in the kitchen, “If Ameera says something, I feel peace following it.”
Maryam nodded. “Yes. It is like Allah placed wisdom in her heart.”
They treated Ameera as though she were the owner of the house, the pillar holding everything together. Whatever decision Ameera made—for the children’s education, the house expenses, visitors, or family matters—they accepted it without argument.
One day, Ameera gathered everyone in the sitting room.
“We must talk,” she said calmly.
The children sat on the floor. Sakina and Maryam sat beside her.
“We are one family,” Ameera continued. “Our husband is gone, but Allah is still with us. If we fight, we destroy what he worked hard to build.”
Sakina lowered her head. “I promise, Ameera, I will never raise my voice against you.”
Maryam added, with tears in her eyes, “I wronged you in the past, but today I see clearly. You are our strength.”
Ameera held their hands. “We have all made mistakes. Let us bury them with him and move forward.”
From that day, peace truly entered the house.
They shared responsibilities like sisters. If Ameera was tired, Sakina would cook. If Sakina was unwell, Maryam would clean. If Maryam was overwhelmed, Ameera would comfort her. The children moved freely between their rooms, laughing, playing, calling all of them “mother.”
One afternoon, one of the children said innocently, “Mummy Ameera, you are the boss of the house.”
Everyone laughed.
Ameera smiled and replied, “No, my child. Allah is the Boss. I am only serving Him.”
Visitors who came were shocked.
“Where is the fighting?”
“Where is the jealousy?”
“How are you managing?”
Ameera would answer gently, “We learned too late that love is stronger than hatred.”
Sakina would add, “Jealousy only destroys the heart.”
Maryam would say, “Peace is a choice.”
Soon, people began to learn from them. Women came to seek advice. Families came to observe how they lived together in harmony. Even elders praised them.
“They are an example,” people said. “Despite everything, they chose peace.”
Every Friday, they gathered the children to pray for Maikudi.
“Ya Allah, forgive him.”
“Ya Allah, grant him Jannah.”
“Ya Allah, reward him for every good he did.”
They taught the children to make duΚΏΔ’ for their father, to remember him with goodness, not bitterness.
Years passed.
The house remained full of laughter, respect, and unity. Though the pain of losing Maikudi never fully disappeared, Allah replaced it with tranquility and wisdom.
And so, the story of Ameera, Sakina, Maryam, Maikudi, and their children did not end in jealousy or hatred—but in love, patience, and faith.
This is the end of their story.
© AHMAD ZAHIR ENAGI ABU KHALIF
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